


as simple as that

by doubtthestars



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: 2016 Summer Olympics, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 09:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16215896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubtthestars/pseuds/doubtthestars
Summary: You can't lie to your soulmate, Nils knows that, yet still manages to hold onto the secret for entirely too long.





	as simple as that

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ascience](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ascience/gifts).



> I almost used a taylor swift lyric for the title. More notes to follow after reveals.

He doesn’t notice it at first. Nils wasn’t much of a liar by nature. His face gave him away too easily for him to properly lie without feeling guilty, but small white lies were alright. They were sometimes necessary. Nils certainly needed them at times to navigate the world of celebrity that accompanied his chosen career.

“Do you think Grischa has a chance with that gymnast?” Matze asks jokingly. The Olympics had managed to infect half the team with a certain insanity regarding hooking up with other athletes. It had been amusing for the first few days but Nils didn’t have the urge to participate nor watch the others increasingly strike out.

Grischa had a snowball’s chance in hell with the girl, but Nils was never one to cut down someone’s high hopes.

“No.” had come out of his mouth where he’d meant to say ‘maybe’. He turned to his side, trying to get more comfortable for a nap. Sleep was definitely needed, he decided.

“I don’t know. She could like the whole eager puppy thing.” Matze mused, tapping out something on his phone. Nils shut his eyes, trying not to dwell on the strange anxiety that had suddenly appeared at the back of his mind. He was tired was all it was. His wires got crossed and his brain to mouth filter suddenly stopped. It was fine, he reasoned.

“She could.” He finally agreed before trying to sleep in earnest. 

For all that Nils was sure it had to have been a fluke, it stayed in the back of his mind for the rest of the day. His words suddenly felt measured and awkward no matter how inconsequential the conversation was, especially with Matze.

“Julian, I need you to ask me a question.” Nils looked around to find they were as isolated as they could get for dinner in the olympic dining room. 

Julian narrowed his eyes in suspicion, taking a bite of asparagus to make him sweat out the request. Nils wasn’t a practical joker. At least not the sort to initiate a joke, more the person to act as a lookout. 

“Okay,” he humors him after swallowing. “What day is it today?”

“Thursday.” Nils lies, feeling intensely relieved. 

“It’s Friday, but you definitely know that considering our next match is tomorrow and you always try to get to dinner early the day before we play. So is this what I think it is or have you suddenly decided to take up pathetic fibbing as a hobby?” Nils stops fiddling with his fork, looking put out.

“I don’t know. I mean I’m not sure. It’s probably nothing.” He shrugs, avoiding eye contact to observe the room. 

“That was mildly more convincing than the last one. Congratulations.” Julian said sarcastically. “But really, if it is _some_ thing you should probably tell Max at least. Hrubesch probably wants to avoid another Bernd incident. Everyone wants to avoid another Bernd incident. That was a mess.”

Nils sighed. He’d heard through the grapevine what the now infamous incident involved but that was an extreme case and from what he knew of Marc and Bernd, they had been stubborn and fighting the verity impulse for too long was not ideal. Nils was being precautious and he’d only really known Matze for a few days. It was definitely nothing.

-

No one knew exactly why the human brain was incapable of lying once you met your soulmate, but there was no denying the effect. The more time went on, the more uncomfortable it would be for some people to lie, until they unequivocally would be driven to be honest in all circumstances unless their match was acknowledged. Freud had explained it as the Id gaining more ground in order to fulfill the desire of being whole.

Nils didn’t really care about the psychology behind it, because he’d seen the proof himself with friends and colleagues. He’d never concerned himself with the why, just the how.

Matze’s header against Portugal wasn’t anything spectacular, but Nils had felt a shiver run down his spine nonetheless. Attraction wasn’t an indication of anything. He could be mature about feeling that way towards his temporary roommate. After all, they were in the last weeks of the tournament. Nils knew they could medal if they kept this pace, if they didn’t lose focus. He was surprised at how much he wanted that now that they were so much closer to the end.

“Do you want to play some table tennis when we get to the village?” Matze leans in closer to be heard over the noise on the bus. It’s not much of a celebration for getting into the semi-finals but it was familiar territory for them. 

“Before or after dinner?” Nils holds himself still and tries to breathe at a normal pace. The trick to holding a conversation without feeling unduly paranoid was to answer a question with a question. As soon as he got his head in order and stopped conflating a crush with a soulmate, he’d apologize for being so out of sorts. 

“Before I guess would be better. We do have an early morning tomorrow.” Matze was still entirely too close for comfort. He suddenly wondered if that _was_ their normal. Lars had off-handedly remarked to Matze if he could detach himself from Nils to play FIFA one night. They spent most of their time together to the amusement of some of their teammates, not that the roommate lottery was terrible, but they had gotten along fairly easily and quickly.

“Right. That’s true.” He replies, a beat late, still lost in thought. 

“It’s a date then.” Matze confirms, turning slightly red at the unintentional implication. 

Max interrupts their silence by leaning over the backs of their seats to get his octopus arms around the both of them.

“I need your opinion, gentlemen, because Davie is absolutely wrong about mustard and what you can use it on.” Max looks comically serious about the issue while Davie starts yelling about Max being worse than a woman with pregnancy cravings. 

The bus ride conversation naturally devolves into what the worst combination of foods would be and if they would ever try to eat said combinations through bets or trickery. Nils breathes a sigh of relief and enjoys the commotion without worrying about soulmates or feelings for the rest of the ride.

“Are you okay?” There’s far too much concern in his voice for a missed point. 

“Yeah,” The ball in his hand weighs nothing as he drops it onto the table to start again. There’s an urge to keep the conversation going, and Nils doesn’t know if it comes from verity flooding his brain or just the want to keep Matze engaged. 

“I didn’t think I would ever get this.” slips out quietly. Matze lets the ball fall off the table, staring at him before smiling gently.

“Well, the world deserves to see you play.” 

He knows Matze means it, truly. 

-

Philipp and Grischa are the first ones to reach him after he redirects Davie’s shot. The dying minutes of the match feel unsubstantial and dire at the same time and the subs felt it more than most. He’s a bit numb to the revelry, stunned that he managed to score. He doesn’t know where to look: to the fans, to the bench, or to Matze. 

It’s a revelation couched on the brink of history, of silver or gold. They were going to the final and Nils knew without a doubt his feelings wouldn’t change. 

As the final whistle blew, the team congregated on the pitch in elation. Nils felt his heart racing in his chest. It still felt unbelievable to be in Brazil at this very moment instead of on vacation. Hrubesch had given him a chance and he had taken it with a grain of salt on any expectations. Nils was practical. His dreams involved Bundesliga titles and possibly a captain’s armband one day. He’d gone through the youth ranks with an extraordinary group of players that proved themselves two years ago winning the world cup. And now, he was here, with another group of kids that had the world’s eyes on them. 

He was in the Olympics and by the end of the week would have silver or gold around his neck. It was as astonishing as finding his soulmate right under his nose.

The locker room was just as riotous if not more so than their celebration and hugs outside. He avoids Matze as much as he can under the circumstances, knowing that it wasn’t the right moment to have a discussion about being soulmates. Philipp doesn’t mind him hanging around and Niklas is distracting Matze with something on his phone. 

There isn’t a dull moment on the bus either, with Grischa sticking to him like a barnacle and the rest of the team singing and talking about the game and what to expect against Brazil. 

Matze keeps a hand on his shoulder on the bus but he’s also half-standing and off balance to laugh with Klostermann over him recounting his goal and his girlfriend’s reaction over the phone. Nils is looking up at him when he feels a nudge from his side. 

“Heart eyes is a good look on you, which is completely unfair.” Max drawls, slightly swaying but keeping his voice low. Nils tenses for a fraction of a second before laughing it off. 

“Don’t be jealous. Are you drunk?” Max snorts. 

“Hardly. Don’t be dumb.” He points at him with a stern face that wouldn’t look out of place on a long-suffering preschool teacher but just looked bizarre and funny on Max. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Matze interrupts, dropping into his seat. Max smiles entirely too widely for Nil’s peace of mind. He doesn’t turn to face Matze but keeps his eyes on Max to tackle him into Serge the aisle over if need be. 

“Being stupid. Have you tried out the complementary condoms yet?” Max asks breezily enough to make Nils choke while Matze stuttered out something towards a negative.

“Oh, well, too bad. You know they’ve allotted something like 40 condoms per athlete right? Seems like a waste if we don’t do our part.” Max scratches the back of his neck like he isn’t two seconds away from implying certain things. 

“That’s, uh, a lot of sex.” Matze gamely replies, still sounding a little strangled.

Max laughs before tapping his temple with his index finger, “Creativity goes a long way.” and leaves them to flop into his seat next to Davie.  
-

The night before the final is the longest night of his life, and that’s accounting for horrendous jetlag in some cases. Nils gets up to get some water from their kitchenette because sleeping seems impossible. He’s drawn to the view from their balcony, walking the short distance in the dark with ease. The moon hung full in the night sky as he wondered about the match, about what he should do with his soulmate.

Every time he even tried to string a sentence together around the topic, he hesitated and let the moment pass until he was certain there wouldn’t be a good time during the tournament. That left the conversation to the nebulous aftermath and that seemed worse somehow. 

Nils realized very quickly that beyond Freiburg and football, Matze and he had very little overlapping their lives after they went back to Germany. He knew soulmates didn’t magically get a happily ever after. He didn’t expect that, but he started doubting if it would work out --if it wasn’t some sort convoluted rush of Olympic adrenaline and the constant proximity they were in for these weeks that wasn’t throwing him for a loop.

“Nils?” Matze calls out, voice rough from waking up. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.” Nils apologizes softly. He hadn’t even checked the time when he rolled out of bed after tossing and turning for what seemed like ages.

“It’s okay.” He hears the shuffle and creaks of Matze getting up from his bed. He takes a long drink of water to distract himself from the anticipation or worry fluttering in his stomach. Matze touches his arm briefly when he reaches him. 

“Are you okay?” He doesn’t raise his voice above a whisper, respecting their neighbors and the hour. 

Nils meets his eyes unwittingly. 

“No,” He whispers back. Nils never would’ve imagined keeping a secret would be this hard and it was the silliest thing to be afraid of, but there he was, trying not to confess because they were hours away from defining their place in history.and a day away from leaving all of this summer’s whirlwind behind.

“Is there anything I can do?” Matze keeps his gaze steadily on him, and some invisible restraint cracks under pressure within Nils. 

He struggles, words catching in his throat before he swallows down the trickling foreboding of it not being the right time or place, but he steps in closer to Matze following some imagined force of orbit.

“Yes, I want to --can I kiss you?” he quickly asks, avoiding everything else he would have answered.

Matze's eyes widen before he nods. Nils reaches out, cradling the back of his head before moving in to kiss him. It starts slow, just enjoying the press of their lips moving together, before Matze’s hands move under the waistband of his shorts. Nils walks them back a few steps before catching his breath, panting into the side of Matze’s neck.

“Are you sure?” 

Matze huffs out a ‘yes’ before kissing him again. 

Waking up in bed with Matze was infinitely simpler than he expected. He felt settled in his skin for all that he knew what day it was and that they had to properly get up sooner rather than later. Nils couldn’t help the urge to kiss his way across Matze’s face to wake him up.

Matze groaned weakly in protest. 

“Good morning.” Nils murmurs into his ear.

He mumbles out a question about getting ready for training, not even opening his eyes all the way but turning into Nils’ side before sighing contentedly.

“Not yet, but we should talk about-” Nils doesn’t get to finish before Matze shushes him. 

“Later, we can do that later.” 

-

Matze volunteers for the first penalty. Nils wants to yell at Max, even though he was the one to get them this far in the match with his equalizer. He settles for staring grimly at Weverton as the rest of them huddled in a line. He takes in a deep breath, forcing every feeling down in the seconds it takes Matze to place the ball. Nils doesn’t want to watch, but also knows it would be impossible to look away. 

The ball goes in. Nils blinks in relief.

Matze turns back with a wide smile, catching his eye and nods once.

The next seven penalties feel like they take hours or seconds. He’s done this before, without the stakes being so high, but he’s done it before. The last penalty, the last obstacle in their way. All he had to do was kick the ball past Weverton. 

He barely hears the whistle as time slows down.

It’s meters of pitch and inches of gloves. 

His penalty is saved. The home crowd is deafening.

There’s no talking as promised before. There aren’t words that can convey everything that happened in the span of the day, but Matze undressing him feels like a goodbye he can’t shake. The silver around his neck hangs heavy with disappointment. He tosses it over in the direction of his suitcase. Matze drops to his knees, resting his forehead against Nil’s hip. The shudder of his breath is loud enough to break the silence.

“Matze,” His hands find his hair, trembling minutely. “You don’t have to do this.” It’s an exhausted laughter that shakes Matze’s shoulders before he looks up with heartbroken eyes. 

“I want to.” He tugs down fabric with a clear intent. 

Nils doesn’t say anything after that.

They spend the hours in between their last night in Rio and the plane ride back to Germany distracting themselves, pushing their hurt and sadness into the shallow places of their bodies to revisit later on alone.

On the plane, they don’t sit next to each other, but Max is the only one who visibly objects the occurrence with a deep frown as he looks back and forth from where Matze was to Nils’ seat next to Julian.

“We’re going to discuss this when you look less like shit and I feel less hungover.” Julian is wearing sunglasses and already has his headphones on, but manages to look more disapproving than their captain.

Nils just sighs. 

-

“Has it gotten any worse?” Julian’s morbid curiosity over his condition wasn’t surprising considering his own views on lying and soulmates and the extremes that lie therein. Nils shrugs, holding out his phone so he can get the full effect on camera. 

“Not really, I told you. I think it’s influenced by distance or proximity.” Nils hadn’t felt any particular urge to spill his secrets to his teammates, whether asked directly or not, and no one wanted to cross a line by talking about the olympics. Their last game against BVB hadn’t resulted in any change besides some lingering awkwardness between Matze and him.

Julian rolled his eyes, “I think you’re lying, and you’re actually pining yourself away dramatically in Freiburg while your soulmate is a four fucking hour drive away. Imagine, you could have better sex than that sad consolation post-match disaster over the summer. I’m 95 percent sure Matze would drive back home early for a booty call. The 5 percent is whether or not he would ditch mandatory training for you, and even that is a _generous_ margin of error.” Nils watches his own face close off at the mention of Matze and that night.

“I’m not going to discuss my sex life with you.” Julian snorts out in disbelief.

“Oh, are you actually letting go of your outdated notions about soulmates and looking at other options or are you just trying to avoid the elephant in the room. I told you already, if you actually would say something….”

“It’s different,” Nils blurts out. “It’s different when you know that they’re there. It’s not my _morals_ , it’s just-why mess around when you could have the real thing. You’ll understand when you meet your soulmate.” 

Julian shakes his head. 

“The Brandt males have a long history of not being under the influence of verity and I’m definitely not going to break with that tradition. I’m way too good at smelling bullshit to be the truth-teller in the relationship. But enough about me, does that mean you’re going to be celibate until one of you manages to confess their undying love? Because that could take _years_.”

Nils is caught between laughing and being offended. 

“It’s not that hard. I think you’re spending too much time around Leon and Max.” Julian looks caught out and outraged in the milliseconds it takes him to process that.

“Oh, fuck you, Petersen.” Nils smiles, getting one over Julian would never get old.

“I thought I was too morally righteous for you.” 

Julian hangs up on him. 

-

Out of everyone who was in the know or at least suspected what had happened two years ago, Nils never would’ve expected Leon to be the one to host an intervention. Julian and Joshua showing up to bar the exits was really the icing on the cake. Leon held up his phone to show Max well on his way to furious by the color of his face. 

“What did I say about not being stupid? Hasn’t this gone on long enough?” Max had constantly, constantly reminded Nils about that ill-fated night with a little barb about his idiocy. 

Talking to Max was like pulling teeth. Nils keeps his mouth shut.

“I thought Draxler would manage one simple task over the summer last year, what with his parisian fairytale romance, but Matze is as stubborn and stupid as you are. And now, we’re back to this ridiculous roommate situation, so help me god, if you screw this up again, I will make Leon break the locks to your room.”

“Don’t implicate me in destruction of property.” Leon protests, tilting the phone back towards him and having a 10 second conversation with only facial movements.

“Fine, I’ll make Niklas do it. I know he’ll do it for true love.” Max says as Leon turns the phone back to face Nils. Joshua looked concerned across the room. Nils was positive Max could spin it in a way that Niklas would agree. 

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing with Max, but yes, you’re being a huge idiot.” Julian pipes up, looking bored. 

“Just say something before I fly to Italy to strangle you both. Don’t fuck up this chance.” Max signs off with an angry huff. 

“You can talk now.” Leon adds helpfully, pocketing his phone. Nils does not envy him having to deal with Hurricane Meyer constantly. Of course, he suspects Leon enjoys it because he’s a masochist and doesn’t know how to say no to Max at all. 

“Matze could’ve said something. If he suspected we were….anything.” Nils argues weakly.

“It’s less of a sure thing when you’re on the other side of the equation.” Joshua says, and they all turn to look at him in surprise. “At least, that’s what I got from listening to the saga of Basti and Poldi while you guys were in Rio. You’re not nearly as bad as them. Trust me.” 

Julian grabs him by the shoulders with a face full of determination.

“If you don’t talk to him, you won’t ever know. And that’s what this is really about for you, right? If _you_ weren’t sure, you wouldn’t have spent the last two years looking forward to seeing him for whatever little time you both get together. At this point, you’re making yourself miserable not saying anything to Matze. So we’re leaving it up to you. We can probably hold back Max if he follows through with his threat. Just think about it, okay?” 

The pack of them shuffle to the door, having said what they needed to say. 

Nils is left alone, with the overwhelming sensation of shock. Deep down, he knew Julian was right and that for all they had needled at him to do something, it was only out of concern and care. They could’ve easily said something themselves to Matze, but gave him the choice to do it himself. 

If he left Eppan without talking to Matze, he would have more regrets than not making the world cup squad.

-

When the cameras left them alone, Nils took the chance. It was the contrast between night and day with the last conversation they had over a table tennis match. After all, the World Cup in Russia was a month away and they were both vying for spots on the squad.

“I think we’ve waited a long enough time to talk about what happened in Rio.” Nils starts uncertainly.

Matze freezes in place, paddle in hand still. 

They had both avoided it, Nils had noticed. The Olympics were painful enough without the added layer of an unresolved romance. The scant hours they had to hang out between games and the occasional day trip were filled with activities that could easily be done with a group, things that wouldn’t look overtly out of place between friends. Their texts filled with nothing more substantial than good nights and good games.

“Nils, you don’t-” “We aren’t-” They both fell silent. 

“Go ahead, please.” Nils urges him on. Matze looks out of the window, taking a deep breath.

“You don’t have to say anything, really. I’ll get over it eventually. I shouldn’t have-I didn’t want to talk about it that morning because I knew I’d have to face reality and I didn’t want to. I knew you didn’t feel that way about me and what happens in the Village, doesn’t really matter out in the real world. So, after the match when we-it was my last chance to be with you before we came back home.” Matze blows out air in frustration.

“It was wrong and I’m sorry. You were trying so hard to look _okay_ after the penalty. I just thought you could, you could just be yourself with me.” 

Nils doesn’t reach for him, watching as Matze hangs his head, the sunlight shining through the windowpane catching the length of his eyelashes. His chest felt on fire, heart pounding with adrenaline and a buzz in his ear that made him lightheaded.

Max was right. They were stupid.

“I definitely feel that way about you, Matze.” Nils addresses the first and most pressing of his concerns with all that Matze said.

He finally looks up and straight at Nils, frowning.

“That….wasn’t a lie.” He says, confused. 

“No, you can’t lie to your soulmate.” Nils says quietly, bracing himself.

Matze’s face breaks into a mix of hope and disbelief that is just as beautiful to see in the sunlight than it was in the moonlight that night before the final.

“Wow, I’m-we’re soulmates? But you’re always honest.” Matze thinks out loud, “You always tell the truth...because I’m your soulmate. Oh. I thought, I thought because you never said anything, that you didn’t feel anything for me. We’re soulmates and we’ve spent the last two years in a giant misunderstanding when we could’ve been together.” 

“Yes,” Nils agrees. 

“We’ve been total idiots.” Matze laughs, still in giddy shock.

“I want to kiss you right now but I think Plattenhardt is reading outside on the patio balcony and I’d rather kiss my soulmate in private.” Nils says, glancing over at their oblivious teammate.

“That’s the truth.” Matze says, verifying his words with a broad grin on his face.


End file.
